I Told You So
by AiyanaStone
Summary: Reid's never been good with women. Morgan and Rossi think themselves the experts. But what happens when they go to a bar?  Rated for alcohol and intoxication.


Disclaimer: Any recognizable people, places or things belong to their respective owners, we own nothing!

"Morgan! I'm not going!" Reid snapped.

Rossi wandered into the room, "Going where?"

"We're going to a bar. I'm gonna teach Reid here how to pick up some lady friends," Morgan said with a sly grin.

Rossi smiled. "Mind if I tag along? I might be able to help you out."

Reid looked at him. "Haven't you been divorced three times?"

Morgan grinned widely. "So he's obviously doing something right."

Rossi nodded slowly.

Morgan grabbed one of Reid's arms, and Rossi grabbed the other. Together they dragged their resident genius into the elevator and into Morgan's car.

**"This is a bad idea," Reid muttered darkly.**

**Morgan chuckled. "Lighten up, kid. Under my tutelage, even you could score."**

**Reid sighed heavily.**

**They were parked outside of the Asylum Bar & Lounge ten minutes later. Reid briefly considered trying to resist their attempts to get him inside, but something about the determined glint in Morgan's eye made him reconsider.**

**The three entered the bar, Reid muttering a string of curses beneath his breath along the way. Morgan slung an arm around his young friend's shoulders. "Now then, Reid. Look around and tell me what you see."**

**Reid did so. "It's difficult to ascertain with certainty, given the poor lighting, but this appears to be about three hundred and sixty square feet, and is most likely a veritable breeding ground for viruses and bacteria."**

**Morgan sighed exasperatedly. "What _else_ do you see?"**

**Reid shrugged and looked around again. "Artificial plants…"**

"The _PEOPLE_ Reid, what do you notice about the _people_?"

"Uh," Reid looked around, studying the people, "Most of them would do well to remove the paint from their faces; it can damage the skin and eyes when applied so superfluously and they should acquire some clothing. The clothing they have on is not suited for the weather in D.C."

Rossi wandered over, three beers in his hand. One was already half empty. "I agree wholeheartedly. They have far too much on."

Morgan nodded knowingly.

Morgan accepted one of the beers, and forced one into Reid's hand. "Drink. It'll do you some good."

Reid looked horrified. "According to-"

"NO! None of that here. Just drink." Morgan grabbed Reid's wrist and pushed the bottle to his lips. "Swallow."

Reid did so, when he felt the alcohol burn his throat, he spluttered and coughed. Morgan thumped him hard on the back. "Easy there."

**Reid choked again and gazed at the bottle, shaking his head. "I can't figure out why beer is such a popular beverage. It's _disgusting_."**

**Morgan looked at Rossi and sighed. "I think _I _need more to drink."**

**"That's why I bought this," he said, brandishing a bottle of vodka.**

**"Hallelujah," Morgan said, taking a swig. "Now then, Reid," he said. "I'll be more specific this time. What do you notice about the occupants in this room of the female persuasion?"**

**Reid cleared his throat uncomfortably. "There seem to be a lot of them."**

**Morgan massaged his temples. "Aside from that."**

**"Well, I already mentioned that many of them appear to be heavily-painted and in lack of proper attire."**

**"Start thinking hair-colour."**

**Reid scanned the room for a fourth time. "There are thirty-seven blondes, forty-two brunettes, eighteen black-haired women and three red-headed women."**

**"Well done, genius," Rossi said dryly. "Now start scoping out the hot ones."**

Reid frowned, concern making its way onto his face. "I hope none of them are fevered. They need to see a doctor! Or at least get some bed rest! This is hardly a place for an ill woman! The glasses alone hold enough bacteria to kill anyone, let alone someone whose immune system is already compromised."

Morgan's hand met his face. He took another swig of vodka. "They're fine, Reid. Going to a bar never made anyone sick."

Rossi looked at Reid, wondering absently if he even _had_ those feelings.

"Go talk to one Reid. Try not to be so…genius-y."

Reid looked at him, opened his mouth to argue, and then thought better of it. Reid wandered over to a girl, and began awkwardly talking to her. Morgan smiled, and went off to find one for himself. Rossi watched them both, shaking his head. "Amateurs."

Rossi unbuttoned a couple of his shirt's buttons, and just sat there. Women flocked to him.

**Morgan staggered over to a pair of brunette women sitting at the bar. "Hey. How's doin' you?"**

**The first woman turned to the second and raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Jill. He's worse than you. He's been here ninety seconds and he's already hammered."**

**"'M not a hammer," Morgan protested drunkenly, his words slurring together. "I'm a _jack_hammer."**

**The woman named Jill looked at him disgustedly and tossed her beverage – vodka, incidentally – into his face. Morgan yowled as the alcohol got in his eyes and proceeded to clumsily amble away from them, nearly face-planting twice.**

**Reid, however, was doing somewhat better than his inebriated and now partially-blinded friend. "**I can figure out the square root of any number in less than 10 seconds."

She looked at him, "Sure you can."

Reid smiled, "What? You don't believe me?" She shook her head. "Well, then, let's try it with your phone number."

She smiled, thought for a moment, and then said "202-347-8223."

"44983.08819, Unless you'd rather I go to more decimal places." Reid said, meeting her eyes.

She grinned and took a half-step closer to him.

The third member of their triumvirate was surrounded by women. "Ladies, ladies," He said, lounging on the bar, "There's plenty of me."

Morgan staggered over to the bar, having emptied his vodka bottle. "Gimme a…uh…tee-kill-a."The bartender looked at him, uncertain, "You mean tequila, sir?"

Morgan nodded. "Whoa. Dizziness. Sweet. Gimme my…my whiskey."

The bartender shrugged. What did he care, he was done after tonight anyway. He poured whiskey into a glass, filling it halfway, then filled it with tequila. He placed it in front of Morgan, who downed the entire glass in one.

"Tech-o-la? Why there in my drink?" Morgan asked drunkenly.

The barkeep shrugged, and placed another bottle of beer in front of him, "Maybe you should stick to this, buddy."

Morgan grabbed the beer. He stood up and turned around, stumbling. He caught himself, on a woman. She shrieked and pushed him away. Morgan, however, had not let go, and took her 'breast' with him as he fell. The drag queen shrieked again and snatched it from him. On her way out, she was very careful to tread on his manly parts with her stiletto.

**Rossi glanced at Morgan as he yowled in pain. He chuckled and looked at his female companions. "Poor sucker," he said.**

**"Do you know him?" asked one of his blonde women.**

**He shook his head. "Nope. Never met him."**

**"But didn't you come in with him?" asked one of the brunettes.**

**"No, no," Rossi said dismissively. "He came in with _me_."**

**The women giggled.**

Reid was having more luck than Morgan. He was having a nice conversation with a girl named Emma.

Morgan staggered over to Reid and draped an arm around the younger man's shoulder, "Heya _Spencey_."

"Morgan, what are you doing?" Reid asked, looking at him.

Morgan shrugged and swaggered towards another woman. He tried to talk to her, but she just threw her drink, a martini, in his face. He fell face-first into the bar. He lay, tongue hanging from his mouth, unconscious on the bar.

Reid looked at him, sighing. He turned back to Emma and led her outside to some peace and quiet.

Rossi took this as a hint to leave. He bid farewell to his new lady friends (after receiving several **dozen** phone numbers) and walked over to Morgan. He woke Morgan up and dragged him home.

**Rossi caught sight of Reid and Emma on his way out and grinned to himself before casting a glance of the list of phone numbers neatly printed on his cocktail napkin. His grin widened.**

**Morgan awoke as Rossi unceremoniously dumped him on his couch. "Wha-Where am I?"**

**"You're at your house," Rossi informed him, dusting off the sleeves of his Italian suit jacket.**

**"Damn," Morgan murmured. "'Was having such a good night," he mumbled.**

**Rossi raised an eyebrow. "I think you're still dreaming."**

**"How'd you do?"**

**Rossi gave another small smile, his hand straying towards the napkin tucked safely in his breast pocket. "About average. Go back to sleep, Morgan."**

The following day Rossi sat at his desk, looking quite happy with himself. He watched as Reid shuffled in a few minutes late, and looking rather smug. Reid went over and grabbed himself a cup of sugar with coffee.

Several minutes later Morgan walked in. He looked awful. Reid looked over as Morgan sat down at his desk, and sniffled. Reid furrowed his brow, before slowly walking over to Morgan.

"Are you okay, Morgan?" He asked hesitantly.

Morgan glared at him, (or rather, he tried), "I'b sick, and I'b hungover." He sneezed.

Reid winced, "Why didn't you just stay home?"

"Kinda hoped I'd be able to hide it frob you," Morgan admitted softly.

Reid nodded slowly, "Because you said that going to a bar never made anyone sick."

Morgan nodded, sniffled, and grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk.

"You really should go home, Morgan. You look awful." Reid told him softly.

Morgan shrugged, "Probably."

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride. Let's go." Reid said pointedly.

"Revenge is a dish best served with a cold?" Morgan muttered as he got up again.

A/N: This fic was co-authored with Elizabeth Watson. We hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we did writing it! Let us know what you thought!


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